The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

the late '50s, but without the mass executions; that had been done because
Khrushchev had wanted to save money on tanks and depend on nuclear arms instead.
Narmonov had retired quite a few generals and colonels also; in this case, the
move had been exclusively one of economizing on military expense across the
board. But this time also, the military reductions had been accompanied by a
political renaissance. For the first time there was a true political opposition
movement in the country, and the fact of the matter was that the Soviet Army had
all the guns. To counter that worrisome possibility, the KGB's Third Chief
Directorate had existed for generations – KGB officers who wore military
uniforms and whose mission it was to keep an eye on everything. But the Third
Chief Directorate was a mere shadow of what it had been. The military had
persuaded Narmonov to remove it, as a precondition to its own goal of a truly
professional force, loyal to the country and the new constitution.
Historians invariably deemed the age in which they lived to be one of
transition. For once they were right, Jack thought. If this were not an age of
transition, then it was hard to imagine what the hell was. In the case of the
Soviets, they were poised between two political and economic worlds, teetering,
not quite balanced, not quite sure which way they would go. And that made their
political situation dangerously vulnerable to . . . what? Jack asked himself.
Damned near anything.
SPINNAKER said Narmonov was being pressured to make a deal with the military,
which, he said, was part of the Forward-to-the-Past mob. Group One. The danger
existed, he said, that the Soviet Union would revert to a quasi-military state
that repressed its progressive elements; that Narmonov had lost his nerve.
'He says he's had one-on-one meetings with Andrey Il'ych,' Mary Pat pointed out.
'Intel doesn't come any better than that.'
'Also true,' Jack replied. 'It is worrisome, isn't it?'
'I'm not really concerned about a reversion to Marxist rule . . . What worries
me – '
'Yeah, I know. Civil war.' Civil war in a country with thirty thousand nuclear
warheads. There's a cheery thought.
'Our position has been to cut Narmonov as much slack as he needs, but if our guy
is right, that might be the wrong policy.'
'What's Ed think?'
'Same as me. We trust Kadishev. I recruited him. Ed and I have seen every report
he's ever sent in. He delivers. He's smart, well-placed, very perceptive, a
ballsy son-of-a-gun. When's the last time he gave us bad stuff?'
'I don't know that he ever has,' Jack replied.
'Neither do I, Jack.'
Ryan leaned back in his chair. 'Christ, I just love these easy calls . . . I
don't know, MP. The time I met Narmonov . . . that is one tough, smart, agile
son-of-a-bitch. He's got real brass ones.' Jack stopped. More than you can say
for yourself, boy.
'We all have our limitations. Even the brass ones go soft.' Mrs Foley smiled.
'Oops, wrong metaphor. People run out of steam. Stress, hours, time in the
saddle. Reality grinds us all down. Why do you think I'm taking time off? Being
pregnant gives me a great excuse. Having a newborn isn't exactly a picnic, but I